Just Another Night
by MangoRamune
Summary: About three men who used to be boys. They eat, they drink, and they poke fun at one another's little quirks. They think on their youth and accept it, while being happy about the present. Theirs is just another night; the kind that all people eventually have. One-shot slice of life, rated for language.


The light of the noodle shop glowed in the half-dark of the cloudy afternoon with the same feeble persistence as Takeru's cigarette. It was a tiny little place. Just a kitchen with a bar able to seat five and a pair of booths. A little circular clock with a faux sandalwood frame ticked modestly away, still only half the way to its 7 o clock tone. The lighting was gentle enough to give the room a sense of privacy and sobriety, but still bright enough and warm enough that the happy drunks with their giant red-cheeked grins did not seem out of place. It was an easy, warm atmosphere despite the chill of the coming rain that wafted through the open entrance.

He ground his cigarette into the sand-filled tray sitting just outside the entrance, and chose a seat at the bar. He didn't bother to glance at the menu, and called out his order while he tucked his umbrella away.

A casually dressed man nursing a can of Kirin at the other end of the bar turned at the sound of his voice. Takeru met his eyes, and the glimmer of recognition passed between them.

"Daisuke?"

The goofy, inviting grin was unmistakable, even from behind the beer. "Takeru!" He moved closer by a seat, leaving only a single space between them. "How've you been? I haven't seen you since the wedding! How's Takaishi-onee?"

Takeru tried to bite back a snicker, but it seeped through his crooked grin. Daisuke had jokingly called his wife that in front of Sora and Yamato's first child, and it was her nickname now. "We're both doing well. She'll be in her second trimester soon."

"Eh? I didn't know she was pregnant at all! Lucky bastard..." He sighed, and sulkily spun his empty can. "Miyako is already on her second pregnancy. They'll be having a boy this time. Maybe I'll need to work as hard as Ken does if I want to be a dad..."

A light cough distracted them both.

Ken was standing behind the empty chair between them scowling furiously despite a deep blush. "I would appreciate it if you didn't talk about my family life in public."

"It's not public, it's Takeru."

"It's with Takeru _in_ public!" He sat in a huff, but spared a sheepish smile for Takeru. "Nice to see you again. I didn't know you were coming out with us."

"I wasn't. It's just a coincidence. I like to come here every now and again."

Daisuke exchanged his empty can for three full ones, passing the spares down. "Me too! Their curry udon is the best!"

"Really?" Takeru took a big gulp of of his beer. "I think the kitsune udon is the best."

"You always were an old man in a young guy's body weren't you, Takeru?"

Ken ignored their debate, and sipped gingerly at his beer. He had almost no tolerance, and the night would end in a drunken mess if he wasn't careful. Instead he turned his eyes to the half-curtain separating the kitchen from the front end. He could just barely make out the slim figures of the two highschool girls who worked there. One was the daughter of the establishment, but she didn't seem to be any good at cooking. The other was a hire. Close friend of the family; or maybe such a good kid that they treated her like a close friend of the family. Adept when it came to cooking, and a strict but patient teacher for the other girl. Tall, boyish haircut so short that her cooking scarf covered almost all of it. Probably in an athletic club of some sort. Firm, authoritative voice, but kind too. Like Iori's.

Daisuke bumped him. "Stop working! You've got that look in your eye like you're profiling someone."

The hollow splash in Daisuke's can didn't escape Ken's notice. "You haven't eaten yet, idiot! Don't chug your beer on an empty stomach like you're still a highschooler!"

Daisuke laughed merrily. "I can hold my liquor just fine!" He patted his chest. "Takes a sturdy man to run a noodle cart."

"Takeru, please talk some sense into him."

Takeru made a point of looking away from both of them. "I stopped trying to get him to be sensible in 9th grade. He's your Jogress partner; balancing him out is your responsibility."

"None of us have Jogressed in years!"

"I stand by my point."

A timid laugh and the gentle tap of a bowl of kitsune udon settling on the counter interrupted their chatter. The daughter of the establishment was smiling brightly. "I didn't mean to laugh at you... Um, do you know these two?"

Takeru smirked. "Unfortunately."

"They're always like this, but I've never seen you so animated when you come here. It's a nice change." She looked to Ken and Daisuke. "Curry udon and... It's autumn so, tsukimi udon?"

Both nodded, and she left them with a short, polite bow.

Takeru reached for the soy sauce. "Tsukimi udon in autumn? That's pretty romantic of you, isn't it? Do you eat sakura udon in spring?"

"There's no such thing. I like the taste of tsukimi udon."

Daisuke gave a wide, mischievous grin. "In autumn. When winter rolls around, you will want nabeyaki udon."

"Well, of course he will. Actual nabe is probably hard to set up with him supporting a growing family. If he's going to be eating udon in winter, why not nabeyaki udon?"

Ken nodded. "Exactly!"

The vaguely spicy scent of curry udon hit them, and they looked up to see the hired girl walking briskly toward them with two bowls. She sat them down, and with all the deft skill of a hibachi cook, cracked an egg into Ken's udon on the spot without a single bit of shell falling in. Without even pausing to bow or accept praise, she strode back to the kitchen with a confident, energetic smile.

Ken watched the egg slowly poaching in the broth. "It's rare to see a kid take so much pride in her work. I'd say you'll have some competition in a few years, Daisuke."

Daisuke gave an uncharacteristically low-key grunt. He was focused on his noodles, and so was Takeru. The arrival of all three bowls had caused a sudden hush while the men on either side of him slurped eagerly.

Ken shrugged it off, and savored his tsukimi udon slowly. His eyes traveled back behind the curtain again. The hired girl wore jeans instead of a skirt. They were rolled up just under her knees...or maybe just capri pants designed to look that way. It was hard to tell; girls' fashions didn't make any sense to him. Still, it was peculiar for the time of year. Then again, maybe the cool, rain-scented wind seeping along the floor of the place was refreshing for a kitchen worker. He let his eyes fall to his bowl, and focused on his food.

Daisuke and Takeru were done long before he was. The clock gave a tinny, muted chime to signal the new hour, and the two men were sipping a new round of beers on either side of him. Their eyes were looking distantly over the counter.

The hired girl was diligently cleaning a set of glasses. Though she wasn't quite smiling, there seemed to be a gentle shine of contentment around her.

"Takeru..." Daisuke mumbled over his can. "How's Hikari doing these days?"

Ken kept his eyes on his noodles.

"She got engaged."

A light, nostalgic chuckle passed through Daisuke's nose. "If you asked me ten years ago, I'd have laughed at the idea that she'd end up with anyone but you."

"What? Why? We never dated."

"Yeah, but... I dunno." His eyes slid away from the girl, to Takeru. "You were always so close to each other. She seemed to rely on you for a lot in high school."

"That was probably her way of learning to not rely on Taichi. It's funny, I was the one who told her that didn't have to rely on him so much...but I didn't actually like it when she started to lean on me more, because I couldn't work up the nerve to go beyond that." He looked across the counter, at Daisuke. "I never managed to confess to her like you did."

"You would bring that up." A blush spread along Daisuke's cheeks, up to the tips of his ears. "Thanks again for...sticking with me even though I was kind of an asshole." Daisuke ran his hands over his face, galled by the memory. "I needed someone to talk to, and I didn't want it to be you...But I regret saying those things."

Takeru smiled. It was nostalgic, but somehow bitter. " 'I don't want pity from a chickenshit who can't even confess to the girl he's liked for so long', wasn't it? Even after you hit the nail on the head like that... I was still watching her from a distance even on the day we graduated. You were right, I was a coward."

Daisuke cautiously returned the smile. "It's a wonder you ever landed Takaishi-onee."

"You have no idea."

Ken slurped the last of his noodles quietly, pondering exactly how drunk his friends were.

He had not attended the same high school as Daisuke and Takeru, but he knew the story. Daisuke had decided, probably for the first time in his life, to be entirely serious. Instead of the cheesy behavior he typically applied to gaining Hikari's favor, he had decided romance was as good a place as any to start growing up. Only he and Hikari knew precisely what had been said, but his approach had been very somber, as was his departure when she turned him down. It was fresh news that Takeru had apparently been there to support him right after. Ken couldn't imagine the storm it must have been for both of them. The boy who confessed and was turned down, and the boy who probably wouldn't have been turned down if he had the stones to confess. How frustrating must that moment have been, and how clearly must they have seen each other after?

Ken effortlessly swatted the small swell of jealousy he felt. It was ages ago. He looked back up at the hired girl. She did look a lot like Hikari had in her high school years. A sterner gaze, and taller; definitely multiple other personality differences, but she had that same gentle shine around her.

"What about you, Ken? Did you have a thing for Hikari?"

His throat closed, trapping noodles that should have been swallowed harmlessly and sending him into a coughing fit.

Daisuke clapped his back energetically. "Guess that's a yes!"

Ken gave a wheezy protest. "It's not a yes at all! I'm married!"

Takeru laughed. "Well, so are we, but we're talking about the past, not the present."

"It's still not a yes. Hikari was special to me, but not like that. It was never like that." He frowned at the bits of coughed up udon in his bowl. "She was the only person I knew who knew that had also been called by the Dark Ocean."

"You know Sora and Yamato ended up there too."

Ken nodded. "I found out afterward, and I do feel like I'm in comfortable company when I'm with them too, but... Hikari was there with me. She was standing right beside me. I thought of all of you as so much less stained than me, and subconsciously I probably considered her all the cleaner for her crest, yet darkness had called her too. She could see it and hear it calling her and was afraid, just like I was. It made me feel connected to her." Ken shrugged. "She made me feel less alone, but I never mistook that for love."

Daisuke swigged the last of his beer and made a long, melodramatic groan of disappointment. "That's boring. Booooring!"

Takeru smirked, and began digging around in his wallet. "Don't listen to him. It's good to know exactly where you stand, and caring doesn't have to mean love."

Ken put his hands over Takeru's, forcing his wallet down. "My treat."

Outside, the heavy clouds finally began to release a lukewarm drizzle into the chilled air. Soon, it would come down in the usual early autumn torrent.

While Daisuke was tasked with finishing Ken's beer, Ken stood under the eaves of the tiny little noodle house with Takeru, feeling the damp air settling on his face and making it clammy. The crackling of a match accompanied the flare of a tiny flame, and then the timid glow at the end of a cigarette. The smoke rose in dual hues, warmed by the light from inside, cooled by the gray atmosphere outside. Daisuke came out to join them. His face was flushed from the alcohol, but he looked out at the rain with the same pensive look as Takeru.

Ken wondered if he should say something, but decided against it. The situation wasn't especially extraordinary, so why interrupt it with banter? They were no different from any other group of men who let booze make them nostalgic. They would all go home, and nothing would be different. No love lost; maybe a little gained, somewhere deep inside where the unconscious things welled up without them quite realizing it. The hired girl that reminded two of her patrons of a girl they used to love as boys would go home unaffected, and probably unaware.

It was just another night, in no way particular or outstanding.

And almost like an affirmation, Takeru lifted his umbrella, smiled, and bade them a good night. He dashed off into the rain, and the feeble glow of his cigarette quickly faded to gray.

* * *

Digimon is copyright to Bandai/Toei Animation.


End file.
